Spectres of Death
by Nythtak
Summary: It was a well known fact that the twin sister of the Boy-Who-Lived was a squib. That made the Hogwarts invitation all the more shocking. But Natalie has more important things to worry about; the forces of Death and Life are ready to go to war, and she must take her place as Death's Master and Champion on the front lines. AU Not Evil!Potters/Dumble, Slight Manipulative!Dumble
1. Chapter 1

_We fear death, the unknown.  
Death fears us, the unknowable.  
We fear death's necessity.  
Death fears our Divinity. _

oOo

_If asked, Lily Potter would say she loved both her children equally. _

oOo

Like most first time mothers, she had been both frightened and excited when she discovered she was pregnant. Frightened, because _oh, will I be a good mother _and _how will I tell James?_, but excited; _I can't believe _I'm _going to be a mother! _and _will it be a boy, or a girl? _James had taken the news surprisingly well, twirling her around and grinning in happiness as she giggled and told him to stop before he did something stupid like drop her.

It had been a beacon of hope in the suffocating darkness of the war. They had told a few select people that both trusted, but mostly kept it quiet, though Lily had sent a letter to Petunia in the hopes of finding a common ground with her, as she had managed to find out through the tabs she kept on the Dursley family that her sister was also recently pregnant.

She never received a reply.

oOo

A few months in, she stopped fighting actively with the Order of the Phoenix, though she still attended meetings and attempted to help as much as possible. It was hard though; trying to show her support yet keeping her child out of danger.

They had decided not to find out the gender of the baby, wanting it to be a surprise, but Lily went to regular check-ups at a Muggle hospital to be sure of its health. By going to a Muggle hospital (and here she was grateful for being Muggle-born, as she did not have to fake medical records or Obliviate anyone) she did not have to go to St. Mungo's, though superior in health care she wouldn't know who to trust – it would be too dangerous.

The baby had been fine, much to her relief. Unfortunately, even during such a joyful time the war continued. Terror and chaos gripped the wizarding world, even leeching into the Muggle world as the brutality of the Death Eaters increased, forgoing subtlety for the most part in favour of brute force and numbers.

Voldemort was certainly making use of his allegiance with the Giants, werewolves and other Dark creatures, though after the Giants defeat most had gone into hiding, whole tribes wiped out as they fought against the Aurors. Personally, Lily thought it was amazing none of the non-magical people had noticed, even if they did tend to be quite ignorant and unaccepting of what they believed to be 'impossible'.

Most of the war on Voldemort's side consisted of hit-and-run tactics; mostly attacking Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards. The Order tried to prevent or crush these assaults, as well as trying to flush out Death Eaters from within the Ministry. This resulted in the sad mistrusting of anyone and everyone she knew, never quite able to let her guard down except with James.

She truly hoped this was not the world her child would have to grow up in.

oOo

_She would also say that she did not favour one over the other._

oOo

"It's a boy!"

The birth had been long and painful, and though she has quite a high tolerance for pain it did not stretch to how _tired _she's feeling. She knows that if she ever had more children after this, she would insist on drugs or painkillers or _something _to help ease the process.

However, when her eyes fall on her newborn baby, cocooned in a blanket and held by her midwife, she knows she'd do it all over again.

James, who has been holding her hand at her side, reaches slowly for the baby, as if afraid he'd hurt it – _him_, she realized, _a little boy. My boy._ Her husbands face is lit up with a smile, and after staring at their son's face for a few long moments, he hands him over to Lily.

"Come and see Mommy," he whispers, even though there was no chance of the young child understanding.

Lily carefully takes the baby in shaking arms, resting him against her front. He is still crying loudly, but had calmed down somewhat, though his face is still a light shade of red. He has James' brown hair, with a slight tint of red when the lamp lights hit it, and hazel eyes.

"Daniel," she murmurs the name they had agreed on, if the baby was a boy. She noted happily that he was about average size for a newborn, and that his wailing was quite natural. Chubby little cheeks, small hands blindly grab her finger-

A wrenching pain spikes in her lower regions, and Lily gasps in pain as the contractions begin again. She barely feels as Daniel is take from her arms by an alarmed James, the midwife telling them in slight surprise that there must be another baby-

This one comes quicker, the birth fast but much more painful. When it is finally over she collapses against the bed rest, hoping that now she can _relax, _and get some much needed sleep. But first, she must see her other child.

The midwife – _Annie, a Muggle-born – _passes the newborn straight to her, as James is still cradling Daniel. This one, a girl, is much smaller than her twin, but still healthy. Her hair is white in colour (_unnatural, _her mind whispers, even as she reasons that it was probably just some kind of medical defect; a faulty gene_) _and when she opens her eyes Lily can't help but be startled to see grey orbs that are so dark they are almost black (she briefly, almost desperately searches her memory for anyone in her or James' family that had that colour, or similar. She can't find any)_. _

She doesn't cry, but seems almost _calm _as she stares around at the new world she has been born into, even if Lily _knows _that her daughters newborn brain will be unable to process the world around her.

Lily smiles though, even if the baby seems slightly strange – _odd, wrong! _- and names her, as her consciousness leaves.

"Natalie..."

oOo

_But as knowing grey eyes watch her every move, she can't help but turn away._

oOo 


	2. Chapter 2

"_If there was one thing I have learned in my life, it is that the fear of death is what drives men."_

Chapter 1 **Death**

Lily relaxes into her chair, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.

She hasn't been able to sit down all day, what with caring for Daniel. He's such a lively boy, crawling around and exploring whenever she looks the other way. Most of the time she has to keep her whole attention upon him, to avoid the panic she feels whenever he leaves her sight.

Going into hiding had been hard on all of them, but as soon as Dumbledore had told her of the Prophecy and the fact that it could be pertaining to one of her children, she knew it was necessary. She had been terrified, but her old headmaster had explained that it was not definite that it would be one of her twins, and the Fidelius Charm would protect them from those they did not trust. Anyway, the house in Godric's Hollow appealed to her, with its peaceful atmosphere that was lost from most of the wizarding world.

James was unable to help her as much as he wants to, what with the order and working at the Ministry. Thankfully, due to his pay as an Auror she doesn't have to worry about paying bills or for food, since she spends her time at home now. Molly Weasley has been a great help, especially during the first months after he- _they'd _been born, ready with any advice or assistance, even as she cared for her own children.

Not that it was too overwhelming for her. In fact, she thought she was doing just fine in caring for her children. Daniel's such a cheerful child, if a bit demanding, always full of 'why', 'what' and 'how' questions, ever since he had started to learn some form of speech. But Natalie...

Natalie is his opposite in a way. Quiet, and though curious in her surroundings never venturing to far from her crib or wherever she was set down. In all honesty she's quite easy to care for, never waking Lily up in the night wailing as her twin is wont to do, even though their cribs are only a few feet apart and she can sure hear him. She already has an understanding of many of the children books they gave her, and though she _knows_ Natalie can speak quite well for her age, she chooses not to.

James is a bit more obvious than her _(even if she admits to avoiding the little girl she is supposed to love) _about how he feels; at the rare times he is at home, he devotes most of that time to playing with Daniel, rarely having much to do with Natalie. The two and a half year old doesn't seem to care, as far as she can tell, preferring to watch the people around her, which was rather unnerving to both of them.

There's nothing _wrong, _of course, just a little bit odd, not quite right.

Lily shakes her head and tells herself to think about it another time. After all, James and herself were going out tonight; her parents had volunteered to look after the twins whilst they went to a Halloween party organised by one her Muggle-born friends. A little bit of normality to raise spirits. She can't wait.

oOo

By the time she is two years old, Natalie Potter had touched each of the Deathly Hallows, and been claimed by them in turn.

Though many had spent decades trying to figure out the secret - the truth of the legendary Hallows, none had considered that they were for their own part sentient. Of course, the wielders of such items had never discovered this either, thinking of them as just tools to be used.

But they had been created by Death, and so were Death itself. Death would not merely be used.

The Elder Wand was what Death commonly used as his own wand when she wandered among wizards, though he rarely felt a need to use it. The wand wasn't truly invincible, merely very powerful, no matter the sill of the wielder. Their choice to give it to the first brother had been one of amusement and curiosity; would her wand bend to the wizards ownership?

His wand hadn't, not that Death was really surprised. She hadn't experienced that particular emotion in a while now, not since the first few centuries of his creation. Humanity, and life in itself, had a terribly boring tendency to repeat itself.

Now, their wand was quite special, far more than any other in existence. Wood taken from the largest elder tree in Death's Garden (the comparable opposite of the Garden of Eden) and a threstral tail-hair for a core from one of the horse-like creatures they had created for their Garden, though a few had traversed into the Core world. She was quite fond of them, even if they were often thought of as omens of misfortune and aggression by many wizards because they were visible only to those who have witnessed death (and fully accepted the concept) or due to their somewhat grim, gaunt and ghostly appearance.

It was an undeserved reputation; they were actually intelligent and usually gentle, but that would only get worse if any mortal knew by whom they were created.

Death was a little disappointed to see that no mortal could view and therefore work with the wand as he did; a partner and a being in itself, though the wand could be considered a part of her. When the man, Antioch Peverell, had been murdered and the Elder Wand stolen from him, they allowed the wand to continue existing there. Who knows, maybe someone _interesting _would come into contact with the relic.

The second brother had slightly irritated Death with his arrogance, seeking to humiliate Death when he should be respectful of the powerful being, and asked for the power to recall those who had died. With a private smirk hidden by their hood, they had retrieved a small stone from the riverbank, etching a design into its surface as they blessed it with a small amount of an old magic which had long since been lost.

The recalling of Shades of the Dead.

When it had been a seldom practised art, a few had used it to say goodbye to loved ones, or to seek answers. But, as the Magical community became more organized, it was classified as the darkest of Dark Arts and forgotten.

Those who had magic were told expressively to never allow or force the dead to linger longer than a day. Any longer, and both spirit and caller would begin to suffer.

This was proven to be true by the actions of Cadmus. Cadmus used it to attempt to bring back a girl he had loved and was prepared to marry before her untimely death. While he was able to bring back a shade of her, he felt as though a "veil" separated them, and he could tell that she was suffering greatly from being forced back among the world of the living. Realizing the limitations of the Stone, Cadmus killed himself out of grief so that he could truly be with her.

The third and final brother was by far the most interesting of the three. Ignotus asked to leave and not be followed by Death, which was a strange request within itself. Did he wish for immortality, to not be able to be followed by Death, and therefore not die? In another bout of curiosity he neatly tore a large piece of material from their own cloak, which instantly regenerated itself, layering it with powers of invisibility as she handed it over.

Remaining true to their word Death was unable to claim the last brother as they had the others, until at last Ignotus was an old man and gave the cloak to his own son. The Invisibility Cloak itself would not have protected him from Death if they chose to target him, and Death generally did not have much to do in the ways of mortals and their lives as it was, since their powers over the dying were caused by their mere existence, but the cloak had obviously served him well.

Ignotus greeted Death as an old friend, and they couldn't help but smile slightly. Perhaps there was still some humans who deserved their attention.

This was proved true several hundred years later.

**...**

Dumbledore had decided to visit the Potters, hoping to reassure them as well as meet the twins who were possible candidates for the prophecy. It seemed like the chosen one was their only hope in defeating Voldemort and he couldn't help but wish something would happen to stop the madman. It was starting to seem like the war would never end.

Knocking on the door he smiled as Lily greeted him and invited him in. He had always been fond of the couple, both bright and talented in their own fields. Whilst Lily showed an aptitude in Charms and Potions James favoured Transfiguration, and both were gifted in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was truly a blessing that they had decided to fight on the side of the Light.

"Right this way, Headmaster." Lily said, guiding him into their living room. It was quite small and cosy, especially compared to what the more...flamboyant wizarding families did to their homes, but Albus found it had a certain charm.

"Please," Dumbledore chuckled, "I am no longer your Headmaster. Haven't I told you before to call me Albus?"

"I believe you have." she smiled, sitting down on one of the couches as he sat on another, "But I'm afraid I'm used it now, and anything else feels rather strange."

"If you must, my dear." he said, eyes twinkling in amusement.

James took that moment to enter. He held a twin in each arm, and was having visible trouble as the boy squirmed whilst the girl hardly moved at all. Setting them down in the playpen with a sigh, he looked up at Albus and grinned.

"Nice to see you, Headmaster."

"And you too, James. Ah," he stood up and moved closer to the two children, "I presume these are the two twins?"

"Yes." James replied proudly, "Just turned one a few weeks back." He fondly ruffled the boys hair, introducing them as he did so, "This is Daniel," he shifted his gaze to the white-haired girl, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face before disappearing, "and this is Natalie."

Albus pretended to have not noticed James' odd actions, instead studying the two toddlers. Were one of these tiny babies really destined to defeat the man who had terrorised the country for the past ten years?

Daniel certainly looked the most cheerful out of the two, playing with a plastic broomstick placed in the pen and mostly ignoring those outside it. His sister, on the other hand sat in an area where there was no toys, staring at the adults with large grey eyes.

Albus couldn't help but think she looked rather odd, her pale skin and other colourings making her stand out against her brown haired and lightly tanned brother. In fact, she didn't appear to have any resemblance to anyone in the Potter family, nor any relatives Dumbledore was aware of. The closest he could compare her to would be Malfoy, but even then that would be a stretch; the Malfoy's hair was merely a light blond, not pure white, and Natalie's eyes were closer to black than a grey-blue.

The child herself was completely silent during his observations, sitting with a stillness and calm that he considered rather unnatural. She looked more like a doll than a lively human baby, though her eyes seemed to be watching everything and everyone. He made sure to keep his face in an amiable expression, not letting how unnerved he was show.

He noticed that all of the Potters were watching him now, Daniel making incomprehensible noises. With a smile he focussed on the boy.

Taking his wand from beneath his cloak, with a small swish a stream of bubbles emerged from the tip, causing Daniel to giggle in delight and thrash at them with chubby arms. Lily laughed lightly in the background, kneeling beside Albus and helping the child as he tried to stand.

After a few minuted Daniel reached for the wand, and Albus handed it over, not worrying that the baby could break it as the wand had proved itself unbreakable many a time. He knew for a fact that this did not count as giving up ownership of the Elder Wand, and so had no qualms in sating the child's curiosity. The wand wouldn't actually cause any magic for anyone other than the current owner, so he was not worried about the twin's health.

Then, Albus made a mistake that would only show its consequences years later.

As the adults left the room, going to discuss the latest happenings of Voldemort's campaign and for cup of tea, Daniel become bored of the wand and dropped it, crawling over to retrieve his toy. The legendary wand rolled along the wooden floor before coming to a stop before Natalie. Tilting her head, she held her hand out towards the wand, almost as if to offer a handshake rather than grab it from the floor.

It is quite known to those who bought a wand from Ollivanders of his favourite saying; _The wand chooses the Wizard._

And so, in seeing the potential of the young witch, and the vague idea of wands being powerful and a being in their own right that had already begun to take root in Natalie's head, the Elder Wand _chose._

In a short leap the wand closed the gap between them, not releasing a burst of sparks in the usual fanfare of a wand meeting its wizard. Though, if any had been their to see it who could understand, they would swear the wand hummed and settled in Natalie's small hand visibly.

Natalie spoke her first word to a wand as she greeted it, a barely whispered "Hello."

_Death watched from their place and smiled._

"_**The first..."**_

**...**

The finding of the Resurrection Stone could not be blamed on any human, though it could be though the fault of Tom Marvolo Riddle for his trust in the loyalty of the serpent's who guarded it.

Snakes, like most beings, are attracted to power. Parseltongue, to most snakes, is a sign of power in wizards, though not in all cases. The language, as it may be called, was actually created by Salazar Slytherin, a talented wizard who used a combination of translation charms, Dark Magic, Blood Rituals and extensive knowledge of snakes to succeed in his best yet least known work of magic. Partly because of his usage of Blood Rituals is was then passed down to his descendants, though only extraordinary people ever began to use the language.

The Gaunts were an exception to this. This line of family had always revered Parseltongue over others, fanatically prideful in their connection to Slytherin. But, as decades passed the line became weaker, mostly due to their habit of marrying cousins to keep their blood pure and retain the traits of their ancestor, until the descendants were little more than squibs with the rare powerful wizard showing up. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered, left in squalor and poverty, and the once great clan shrank until there was only three. Parseltongue became less common, but still the parents of Marvolo Gaunt were horrified to discover that their only son was unable to speak it.

However, it is not completely impossible to learn Parseltongue if the potential was already there, and at least one parent had the ability. Marcarius Gaunt was able to speak it, and by raising his son whilst almost exclusively using the language Marvolo too gained the trait. In turn, he did this for his own children, and the trait was passed on to Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was able to speak it without any influence from the relatives he never knew.

The last was in which Parseltongue could be passed on it quite simple yet complicated; through Magic. Parseltongue is a magic in itself, and is capable of the sentience that all magic is. And so, with the trait almost completely died out, it awakened the gene one of the unborn Potter twins, recognizing both the potential and familial background, to keep the ability alive.

Though many didn't know this, all Muggle-borns are born with their magical abilities because they are distantly descended from a Squib who often marries into a Muggle family. From this point on, that branch of the wizarding family often loses all traces of its wizarding legacy, which resurfaces many generations later in a Muggle-born descendant.

Lily Evans, had she been able to trace her ancestry so far back, or been inclined to try, was in fact very distantly related to Salazar Slytherin. Actually, quite a few families were somewhat related to one of the Four Founders, even if they did not know this, some of them considered muggles. People who tried to study this had to base most of their evidence on guesswork, as the best records were in the hands of pure-blood families, who usually destroyed any instigations of squibs in their clan.

Despite what many would think, ancestry did not matter as much as was presumed. The descendant of a squib with mostly muggle ancestry could be infinitely more powerful than a another of the 'purest' blood.

The point of all this, is that Natalie Potter, through a great deal of luck and circumstance, inherited the ability of the language of snakes. And snakes can be oh so fickle, especially if an action could prove amusing.

As it turned out, a magically altered adder who was tasked with guarding a certain ring, and incredibly bored in doing so, decided that it would be amusing to show a young toddler, who had wandered away from her family, said ring.

…

A few weeks after the twins had turned eighteen months old, the Potters went on a short trip. Lily had had enough of being cooped in the house for weeks on end, and suggested they take a sort of road trip to a nice place by the sea, to the north of England.

James had been reluctant at first, not wanting to abandon his responsibilities as a member of the Order, but with the help of the other Marauders Lily was able to convince him that they needed a break from the pressures of war. She had also insisted on driving, to both prolong the trip and so that it would be safer – it would be all to easy for someone to mess with a Ministry regulated portkey, and she never much liked that way of transport.

However, just as they were passing through the town of Little Hangleton, Daniel started to fuss. His loud cries and Lily's failed attempts to calm him eventually led to James deciding to pull over (Lily had forced him to learn how to drive a few months into their marriage). Making light of the situation, he insisted that they have a nice picnic, and explore a little.

After eating at the edge of the forest, Natalie began to wonder away from her family. She took stumbling steps in a random direction, vaguely aware of the danger of such a distance but not caring. The Potters soon disappeared behind her, still trying to calm a tantruming Daniel and so not noticing their wayward daughter.

She soon came across a building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks, its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Curiosity fuelled her as she walked up to the rotting door, eyes focussing on the remains of what appeared to be a snake nailed to the door.

"_Little human hatchling? A threat to Treasure? No, no...small and weak." _An adder, large and intelligent for its species, watched the little girl. She was standing still outside the entrance, staring at the snake a nasty human had pinned to the door long ago. He was about to turn away, finding her uninteresting, when she spoke.

"_Snake."_

The single word was said in the hissing tones of a serpent, sounding unnatural on most humans yet seemed to oddly fit this one. She had not spotted him, he realized, but seemed to be merely observing the dead snake.

The adder watched her for a moment longer, before allowing his presence to be known. He had not seen a Speaker since he had been tasked with guarding the Treasure by the Dark Speaker, as the man was known amongst many of the snakes. He wondered if the hatchling would be as interesting as he had been.

"_Greetings, hatchling." _he slithered through a hole in the wooden door, raising himself up on loops of coils so that he was near eye height with her.

"_Hello." _the reply whispered softly, grey eyes staring back into his. She did not smell afraid, or run away as many hatchlings did when confronted with snakes and other creatures.

The adders head swayed slightly from side to side, and in an almost unconscious gesture she began to follow his movements, though it was quite faint. In amusement he leaned forward a forked tongue flicking at her cheek, noting how she did not flinch or even blink.

"_Hatchling come see Treasure?" _The question was abrupt, the ides flitting through the serpents mind. He was rather bored, and no one had tried to take the Treasure for many seasons. He had no doubt that the hatchling would be killed by the precautionary 'wards' and 'spells', as the Dark Speaker had mentioned, but if she too spoke the special word...

The hatchling replied after a moment, bobbing her head once. Pleased, the adder instructed her on the phrase he had heard the Dark Speaker say, the last time he had entered the shack.

"_Open to me, the last descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin, Lord Voldemort." _It had taken her two tried to say the phrase correctly, but at the words the air around and within the shack shivered, enchantments reaching out to allow the young girl safe passage. Tom Riddle had assumed he was the only Parseltongue who would ever come to the shack, and so took measures that a person who could speak the language of the snakes would not be harmed – himself – rather than having to take down all the enchantments and put them back up if he ever visited.

With no small amount of glee the adder led the toddler inside, stopping to allow her to catch up as she walked and crawled alternatively, switching sometimes when she lost her balance.

The inside of the shack was no more clean than the outside, small, dilapidated, and thick with filth. However, one area of the floorboards was slightly cleaner than the others, which was where the long snake moved to. Hooking his tale through a hold in the floorboard, it was swept aside with a strong push, revealing a small golden box.

With the adders encouragement she reached for it. The air around the box once again seemed to shimmer, connecting with the wards and recognizing the addition, and so did not activate the many curses placed on it. There was no lock, so Natalie opened the golden case to see the Treasure inside.

It was a large, black stone set within a rather ugly gold ring. Engraved upon its surface was an odd design; a triangle with a circle inside it, and a line cutting down the middle of them. The stone looked strangely separate from the ring, as if the stone didn't belong on the gaudy gold band. It glinted in the weak sunlight, yet the stone didn't reflect any of the light, staying a complete black not unlike a black hole.

Light fingers followed the circle engraved on the stone, and it shifted closer to the pale flesh, warming just slightly. Her first sentence in the human tongue passed Natalie's lips, "I'll see you later."

_Death leaned forward in anticipation, smile growing wider._

"_**The second..."**_

**...**

The Cloak of Invisibility was especially powerful. It was resistant to jinxes, hexes, and other spells which would normally damage or otherwise render a normal Invisibility Cloak ineffective. It has also remained completely effective throughout its long existence of several centuries, unlike the other cloaks which lose their power over time.

Although powerful, the Cloak of Invisibility is not infallible. While the Cloak itself resists spell damage, it does not shield the wearer from spells used against them personally. In addition, it will not hide the wearer from detection that is not based on optical sight, such as most magically enhanced or created eyesight, many magical creatures, and certain detection spells and artefacts.

Unlike the other two Hallows, though quite similar to the Stone, the Cloak has been passed down exclusively down the Peverell family line, usually from father to son, before eventually coming into the possession of James Potter. The origins of the Cloak. However, had been lost in time, until it was just considered an abnormally potent invisibility cloak.

James Potter often used the cloak during his escapades at school, along with his most trusted friends. It had also saved his life several times when on missions both as part of the Order and as an Auror, helping him get out of tight spots and to spy on people. He, as his father had, hoped to pass it onto his child.

In the case where there was more than one child, the honour of owning the cloak usually went to the eldest. James was rather relieved that Daniel had been born first, though he knew it was unfair to think like that. There just seemed to be something..._off _about Natalie, which was why he mostly left her alone. She was too quiet, too serious for a baby. From what he heard from Lily she was quite easy to care for, and he was perfectly happy to focus his attentions on his son.

A few days before the twins' second birthday, the Headmaster asked James through a Floo call if he could study the cloak. He explained that he was fascinated with the way it had continued to work for so many generations of James' family, and to see if it could be replicated.

James had agreed, of course. He trusted Dumbledore with his life, and it was the least he could do for all the help he had given the Potter couple, from their school days to the protection of their home.

He had decided that before giving the cloak over, he would show it to Daniel. The boy would, after all, receive the cloak when he was old enough to handle the responsibility. Well, that was what he told Lily. James planned on giving it to him when he went to Hogwarts, hoping Daniel would use it to continue the Marauder legacy, as well as have fun exploring the castle.

With a grin on his face he entered the living room, pausing slightly when he noticed that Natalie was also there before shrugging it off. Lily was in the kitchen making dinner, whilst the two toddlers sat in opposite corners of the playpen.

"Hey, Dan!" James greeted the child, sitting down on the new carpet and pulling the boy into his lap. Once he had gotten the boys attention, he lifted the cloak from where it lay on the ground. "Have a look at this!"

The cloak was made of fluid-like, silvery material, and was large enough to cover himself and another if they both bent their heads. Daniel stared at it for few moments, thumb in his mouth, before abruptly turning away to reach for a stuffed toy that had been thrown out of the pen.

James laughed, ruffling Daniels' messy hair. "Guess it's not too interesting for baby, huh?"

He carefully placed his son back into the pen, turning away and about to walk from the room, when he was brought to a stop by a light tug. Looking back, he was surprised to see part of the cloak held in his daughters hands. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he could see the faint asking in them.

After debating in his head he sighed and relinquished his own grip, crouching down to be at closer height with her. He sighed, murmuring, "Well, I guess you can hold onto it for a few minutes. I'm just gonna go see what mummy's up to, okay?"

Natalie nodded her head once before falling into a sitting position, ignoring him in favour of the glistening cloak. James shook his head lightly and walked away. The cloak had already proven that it wouldn't tear, so he supposed he could allow her to play with it for a few minutes.

Facing away from Natalie, he didn't see how the cloak moved of its own accord until it settled around her shoulders, dwarfing her in its size, covering her back and folding over her front. He didn't hear as she uttered her first question, or see the cloak pull tighter, almost possessively, in response.

"You're not theirs, right?"

_Full-blown laughter echoed throughout Death's Garden, the pool at their feet shivering in response. A startled herd of threstrals took flights, and all other sounds in the place fell silent. _

_Calming slightly, a manic grin lit up their face as Death swirled a sharp-clawed finger in the watery depths of the pond. _

"_And so the third claimed, and was claimed in turn." They murmured, red eyes glinting with excitement._

"_What will you do now, oh Master of Death?"_

oOo

"Please, have mercy! They're just children! No-"

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Lord Voldemort stepped over the female Muggle with a sneer. How she thought she could protect the two toddlers he didn't know, which made her efforts all the more pathetic. Did she really think he would have _mercy_? He almost wanted to laugh.

The other man, her husband, he assumed, had been as easily taken care of; another Killing Curse leaving his cooling corpse in the hall. Is this the best they could do? Surely Dumbledore at least would have provided more defence than just a Fidelius Charm. It had been almost _easy, _getting Pettigrew to tell him the location of the Potters and breaking into their home.

He'd waited an hour after they'd left before stalking up to the door, carefully weakening the alarms and a precautionary, basic protective ward, before blasting open the door, knowing that the house was hidden from any Muggles who might've seen.

The house itself was smaller than he'd expected, what with the amount of gold the Potters had access to, mostly inherited. There were three bedrooms; the master bedroom one for guests and the twins room – within which he was standing.

They had both been placed inside the same crib, by the muggle when she had run to the room after Voldemort arrived. It was obvious that this was not the usual set-up, what with another crib on the opposite wall. The room was painted a light blue, decorated with glowing stars and several disgustingly cheerful items. A lot of money had been spent on the furbishing of the room, if he judged by the childish design and assortment of toys, though he doubted either toddler could use them yet, being only a few months over two years old.

The closest child had reddish brown hair, already tangled and messy in a way that seemed hereditary to Potters. He seemed more interested in the Quidditch themed mobile above his head Dark Lord who had just killed his caretaker, though the small boy did turn his hazel gaze towards the intruder as he drew closer, innocently chewing on the ear of a stuffed toy bear.

Over all, he seemed quite ordinary. Daniel was apparently his name, as a spy had managed to find out. It was hard to believe that he was expected to bring about the downfall of one of the most powerful wizards of all time.

Grey eyes watch him as he turns to the other twin, Natalie, and he can't help the small shiver that runs down his spine at the stare.

Angry at the irrational fear, he steps closer to the girl, wand held tightly in hand. The white-haired toddler matched his gaze, eyes blank of emotion yet strangely knowing...

Voldemort scoff at his thoughts, and moves away once again so that he is of equal distance from them. He had found over the years that a Killing Curse, especially his own, had enough power to kill more than one young child or baby at once, and so aims his wand to the space between the two and

_and he does not notice that the wand it aimed closer to the young girl_

hisses the curse with particular relish.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews! I'll try to update as often as possible, but it's somewhat hard with my GCSE's coming up. If someone could come up with better summary, I would be really grateful, since I'm not very good at writing them myself.**

"_He will be the last to die, recording and erasing constantly in a large book the names of men at birth and death, respectively." - Unknown, on Azrael, the Angel of Death._

Chapter 2 **Azrael**

When the Potters return home, it was to a burning house and the heavy aura of Dark Magic.

They could hardly believe that this was their home. The house was stained black in parts, an inky colour which had started to spread, almost like some sort of infection. The white-washed walls were long gone, and the door had been blasted apart, leaving pieces of wood scattered just inside the hallway. Wards surrounding the house, which had failed to warn them, had fallen suddenly a few minutes earlier, resulting in them apparating from directly inside Lily's friend's house without an explanation, to see what had caused it.

After staring for a moment, horrified at the sight, both parents ran inside. Lily quickly strengthened the wall with a few charms, whilst James put out the small fires that had built up. Lily shed a tear when she saw her father, crumpled on the floor, dead, but pushed it from her mind. She would have time to grieve later, after she's found out what has become of her children.

They both knew it was Voldemort's doing, but didn't dare to say anything yet.

They searched the rest of the house, wands held at the ready, eventually climbing up the stairs. They were thankfully intact, though they creaked under the strain of holding up the two Potters. Upon entering the twin's bedroom, both took in a deep breath before opening theirs eyes.

The room was in a worse state than the rest of the house, the cream door hanging off its hinges and walls crumbling. In the centre of the room, near the cot, was a pile of ashes, and a few paces from the door lay Mrs Evans, pale green eyes wide and unseeing. The back wall, where a wide window was situated, had been completely ripped out, frame and all, from the force of the backlash of magic.

"Daniel!" Lily cried in relief, forgetting her caution to run to her sons side. The young boy was bawling loudly, the sound quieting slightly as Lily shushed him gently, rocking Daniel to help calm him. James came and stood by her, stance deflating in respite, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

They belatedly noted that Natalie was also in the crib, but couldn't bring themselves to feel ashamed for their lack of care. She too appeared unharmed, but unlike her brother was fast asleep,

_exhausted, not merely asleep. Oh, silly little mortals_

her chest rising and falling evenly. Neither noticed the faint glow of green that shone from her skin, as it faded away, leaving the skin even paler than it had been previously. The thin semi-circle of raised skin under her right eye, just a few centimetres from the eye itself, was similarly missed.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's all okay." Lily soothed Daniel, gently stroking his fringe from his face, "You're okay."

Her fingers felt the slick liquid of blood, and she let out a small gasp of "James!" before hurriedly examining the wound. It marred the centre of his forehead (Lily berated herself for not noticing earlier. She had been training to work at St. Mungo's before she'd started to take part in the war, for Merlin's sake!) in an uneven line, though she was thankful that it was quite shallow.

She cast a quick healing spell, one used to clear out any foreign substances that could lead to an infection, before sealing it with another.

However, just a second after the two sides of the cut joined together, it split open again, as if something was forcing it open. With a frown Lily examined it further, biting her lip when she felt the presence of Dark Magic lingering around the wound. Why was it so concentrated there, on her son?

_Not your son, no no. Death Magic clings to blood, no matter who bleeds...but let us watch you make mistakes, just a few more..._

"What is it, Lily?" James asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "Aren't you going to heal it?"

"That's it, I tried but it keeps re-opening." She replied, frustrated. With a sigh she continued, "Let's get Madame Pomfrey to have a look at it. She's a much better healer than me, so hopefully she'll know what to do."

James nodded, "Right. We need to talk to Dumbledore. I don't know what happened here, but it couldn't have been anyone but Voldemort. Peter sold us out." The last part was said in a growl, but he tried to keep a hold on his temper, for Lily's sake if not his own. He could see that she was terrified and upset, too worried to begin to grieve for her parents.

The house groaned ominously, even with the added stability of several spells. Glancing around worriedly, James picked up the still unconscious Natalie from the cot and made his way to Lily's side. "C'mon, we better get out of here before the house comes down on us. I'll apparate us to... " He thought for a moment; who to go to? If the state of his house and his in-laws was caused by Voldemort, who could he trust to go to?

The choice was taken out of his hands as he heard a familiar voice shouting up the staircase; "James? Lily?"

"Dumbledore!" They smiled at the man, relieved that he was here. Hopefully their former Headmaster would have an explanation for this, something that would make more sense than their half-formed suspicions.

oOo

The usually cosy Headmaster's office seemed colder somehow, even with a warm fire roaring and windows firmly shut. A great number of portraits lined the walls, most pretending to sleep while they listened in on the conversation. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix watched from his perch, intelligent black eyes shining in the candlelight. Dumbledore himself sat behind his desk, resting his chin on crossed hands.

"Mmm." The twinkle that was usually present in his eyes had long since faded, the blue seeming more weary and old then ever before. The Potters had just finished telling him about the scene they had arrived to, and were now looking at him expectantly for his view on the happening of the night.

They had arrived at his office, safely away from the damaged house at Godric's Hollow, the couple seated together on a chair James had transfigured to fit the both of them, an hour or so ago. The twins were on their parents lap, sleeping peacefully. Natalie had yet to awaken, but Albus did not think much of it, as he knew it was normal for young children to sleep a lot.

As soon as they had arrived he had taken them to see Madame Pomfrey, who looked over Daniels cut, but had been unable to heal it completely, much to her confusion and frustration. It would now scar permanently.

Dumbledore had gone back to the house whilst the Potters were settling down, hoping to look for some clues as to what exactly had transpired. Through an extensive use of spells and knowledge, he had been able to identify what Lily and James had referred to as a 'pile of ash', was in fact the feared Dark Lord.

Hidden inside said pile, he had found the unmistakeable white yew wand that had faithfully served Tom Riddle for the past several decades.

He sighed, knowing that he would have to tell them his own thoughts.

"I believe, that tonight Lord Voldemort chose to attack your children," both Potters flinched, "in the hope of killing the one person who could grown up to be a danger to him. The child of Prophecy." He said solemnly. "I also believe that when he went to strike Daniel, due to Mrs. Evans's sacrifice, invoking ancient magic which took power from Daniel's own magic, the spell backfired, destroying him. The mark upon Daniel's forehead," he indicated the wound, "is likely where the curse connected, due to the highly concentrated amounts of Dark Magic and how it resists healing."

_Oh look, another mistake. How many more will you make?_

There was a stunned silence.

Lily took in deep breath before speaking, "But, why Daniel? Couldn't the prophecy have concerned another child?" She hated that she was wishing this upon some other helpless toddler, but she needed to know.

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. He chose, not the pure-blood (which according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood like himself." Dumbledore said, "He saw himself in young Daniel," James scowled at the wall, hating that a monster such as Voldemort was making comparisons with his innocent son, "and in marking him with that scar, he has marked Daniel as his equal, yet had ultimately defeated himself."

Lily and James' eyes widened, the redhead being the one who said what they were both thinking; "..._and the Dark Lord will mark the child as his equal,_ that was one of the lines in the prophecy, wasn't it?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her gaze turned to her son, "Then did Daniel really...kill Voldemort?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily, "I do think that Daniel was instrumental in Voldemort's defeat, but no, I am certain that he is still alive."

"How?" James stood up, his frustration finally getting to him, "How is Voldemort still alive? You saw what had happened to him – there's nothing left!"

"Please, calm down." he replied gently, keeping silent until James sat back down with a sigh, "The man known as Lord Voldemort is no more than a harmless spirit, and it is likely we will not hear about him from some time. He had used some of the Darkest Magic known, to prevent the one thing he was most afraid of; Death."

The Potters nodded, curious yet not wishing to delve in the methods the Dark Lord had used, that even Dumbledore was uncomfortable speaking of.

"Now," Dumbledore clapped his hands, a smile on his face again, "Do you have any more questions?"

James and Lily shook their head tiredly. They still didn't exactly understand the events of that night, but it seemed their former Headmaster didn't either. What they wanted most at that moment was to get some sleep, exhaustion dulling their thoughts.

Albus, seeing the state of the two, stood up, motioning towards the door, "Ah, it seems the two of you best be off to sleep. You can stay in the guest's quarters until other arrangements have been made."

"Good night." Lily nodded to him, cradling Daniel in her arms and walked out of the door, James following at a slow pace after he too nodded his gratitude.

Dumbledore frowned at the closed door once they had left, taking a seat.

He sighed, mulling his thoughts over in his head, knowing that though Voldemort had been defeated, the war was far from over. There was still many Death Eaters running free, causing even more chaos in the absence of their master. Already groups of aurors had been deployed to help round them up, from what he had heard through some Order members in the Ministry. Soon, the smarter ones would either go into hiding or claim innocence, biding their time just like Voldemort was.

And young Daniel would certainly be playing an important role in the future.

oOo

Word of Voldemort's defeat had soon been spread, as well as of Daniel Potter's part in it. Most seemed to forget about the Statue of Secrecy, celebrating into the night and continuing during the next day. Almost the entire department of Obliviators were called out, apparating up an down the country to Obliviate muggles who had seen or heard enough to get suspicious.

The last known act of the Death Eaters was the torture and insanity caused to Alice and Frank Longbottom, resulting in their admittance to St Mungo's and their two year old son being put in the care of his grandmother. None but Dumbledore was aware that the boy had been the other likely candidate of the prophecy.

A few Death Eaters hadn't believed that their Lord was dead, denying it vehemently and attacking without any real cause, the majority of them being caught and locked up in Azkaban after a damning trial. Several had managed to get out of a sentence by either claiming to have been Imperioused (usually with an added bribe as persuasion) or, as in the case of Severus Snape, having a vote of confidence from an influential figure.

Searches had been made for Peter Pettigrew, known betrayer of the Potters, but they had all led to dead ends. Many believed he had fled the country upon his discovery of working for Voldemort, whilst others, such as the remaining Marauders, were confident he would stay in the country, wanting to keep on familiar ground.

The moniker of the Boy Who Lived had been created, and soon it had become known throughout the magic community in Britain. Many proclaimed him their saviour, both the boy and his family becoming instant celebrities. Lily and James Potter were the brave parents of their new-found hero, Lily's own parents, though muggles, known for standing up to the terrifying You-Know-Who.

Little thought was given to their daughter, as in the years to come she was rarely seen, except for a mention here or there. Her strange features, so different from her family, which had been recorded in a few pictures if she went out in public and a glimpses in some interviews with the Potters, had caused many people to feel uncomfortable, especially those who tended to be prejudiced over those matters. Her antisocial attitude hardly increased her popularity, and with the way the Potters seemed to keep her hidden away, it was largely assumed that she was a squib.

oOo

The Potters now lived in a large house in the countryside, hidden once again under a Fidelius Charm, though this time Dumbledore had volunteered to be their Primary Secret Keeper. He had suggested that they live away from the Wizarding society to keep Daniel safe from any surviving Death Eaters or supporters of Voldemort's regime, which had been easily agreed to due to the logic of such an action.

However, with the family's sudden famousness came both the adoring mobs of well-wishers, fan mail and persistent reporters hoping for interviews and pictures. They had decided to keep the Charm up, in order to preserve their privacy, though the Potters allowed for interviews and photo shoots to be arranged, usually on Diagon Alley.

Lily knew that Daniel might get a big head from this, but the then three year old seemed to have so much fun the first time she had allowed it (the public wanted confirmation of the boy's survival, Dumbledore had said), she just couldn't refuse when he had looked up at her with large, watery eyes and pleading expression, and interviews became almost a regular event.

Natalie was a lot less enthusiastic than her twin, answering any rare questions directed to her shortly and in a blunt manner, sometimes not speaking at all. Soon her parents decided to just leave her at home, and the small girl offered up on protest.

The pubic didn't seem to care about the lack of the Potter daughter, focussing much of their questions and photos on the boy who lived. Daniel was certainly lively enough to hold their attention, becoming more charismatic as he grew older.

Lily couldn't help but be proud of how well her son had adjusted to the sudden attention, and though she admitted he was a little spoiled, he certainly deserved it. After all, (and here she can't help but be caught up in the praises which had become common) it was thanks to him that Voldemort was gone! And he was just so happy and charming, especially when in public, endearing himself to the wizarding community.

Sometimes, Lily felt a little ashamed of how Natalie shunned any attention directed towards her, hiding up in her bedroom (when they had moved into their new home, the twins had been given separate bedrooms) most of the time, reading any books she found in the house as far as she could tell. She never spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and unlike her twin had no friends, whilst he seemed to make them wherever he went. Why couldn't her daughter be, well...normal?

Dumbledore had assured her that it was quite natural. Her brother was the most famous boy in the country, maybe even the world, of course she would feel jealous! Lily had instantly understood; hadn't Petunia done the same when she found out that Lily was a witch? Hiding away and acting cold to both her sister and parents?

She hadn't known what to say to Natalie. Well, she knew she should convince the four year old that even though Daniel was the boy who lived, she loved both of them equally. But, when she had gone up to her room, she found she just couldn't say it as those impassive grey eyes watched.

It was a lie, and Lily had always been a bad liar.

OOo

Daniel Potter didn't like his sister.

He knew, even at a young age, that she was strange, that something was wrong with her. She never cried or played, barely even eating and talking. It made Mum and Dad unhappy, and Daniel didn't like that. After all, wasn't he the hero? Saviour of the Wizarding world? Well, what kind of hero was he if he couldn't even look after his parents?

So, Daniel made sure to ignore her as well, and when he would catch his parents looking over if his twin made a rare appearance, he would bring their attention back to himself. They were much happier that way, smiling instead of frowning, and Daniel found that he liked it when they were intent on him rather than his weird sister.

He decided, since Natalie was so mean to his parents, making them sad and frowny, she shouldn't have any friends. She would hardly be a good one anyway, never caring for anyone except herself with the way she sulked in her bedroom and rejecting Daniel when he tried to talk to her. He was just saving them from becoming upset too, and wouldn't they rather be friends with him? He was a great friend!

He put this into action when the Weasleys visited. He really liked them, especially Ron, who was his age, and the twins, who were really funny and taught him lots of pranks that even Dad hadn't! The youngest and only girl, Ginny, had come with them as well, and even if she _was _a girl she wasn't too bad. She liked Quidditch, and anyone who liked the greatest sport _ever _couldn't be bad! Natalie never played Quidditch, hadn't even touched a broom in all her life! She was probably really bad at flying, being so thin and weak.

Whilst they were playing in the garden (which was huge! Perfect for play fights and Quidditch games on the kids brooms Dad had bought!) Ginny had spotted Natalie sitting on the window seat of her room, reading one of the boring books she had gotten Mum to buy. Daniel hated reading, not liking sitting in one place for too long. It was much more fun playing with his friends or his enchanted toys.

"Who's that?" Ginny said, pointing at his oblivious sister, pausing in an abstract re-enactment of 'Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump'. Scowling, Daniel watched as the rest of his playmates turned to look at who Ginny was pointing to.

"Isn't that your sister?" Ron asked, tilting his head in confusion, "What's she doin' up in her room?"

"Well, it looks like-" One twin started. Daniel had never been any good at telling them apart, which infuriated him to no end, though he didn't let it show.

"-she's reading. Maybe-"

"-we should ask her-"

"-to come play?"

"No!" Daniel shouted, causing the four children to look at him in surprise. An embarrassed blush warmed his cheeks, "I mean, Natalie doesn't like playing."

"But, shouldn't we ask, just in case?" Ginny said, glancing back at the white-haired girl.

Daniel's mind raced. What was he supposed to say? He didn't want his stupid sister coming and taking his friends! She was a weirdo who'd probably ignore them anyway. But, what if she agreed? He had to make them not _want _to play with Natalie.

An idea formed, and he smiled at the curious Weasleys.

"Well, I'm not really supposed to tell anyone, but I know I can trust you guys, right?" he said in a purposely unsure voice, glad for the acting skills he had developed from being in the spotlight for most of his life.

They leaned forward in anticipation, nodding their agreement. Daniel continued, "Mum and Dad told me a few weeks ago, since I'm old enough to know now, that..." he paused for suspense, "Natalie is a Dark witch!"

The Weasleys gasped, before one of the twins frowned and countered, "But, isn't she a little young to be a Dark witch? She doesn't even have a wand yet!"

Daniel quickly replied, "No, no! They said...they said that when I defeated You-Know-Who, he cursed Natalie with super special Dark Magic, so she became really evil and stuff! Yeah, and-"

The lies were surprisingly easy to tell, and Daniel soon found himself believing them. It did explain why Natalie was so odd, and why his parents didn't like her much. He was just protecting his friends from her influence! Doing his duty as the boy who lived! It's not like Natalie wanted any friends, she obviously thought she was better than them, looking down at them from her window. She wanted to be alone!

Daniel, though a child, was much better at telling lies than his mother.

oOo

Contrary to popular belief, Natalie preformed her first piece of accidental magic a few months after she had turned four.

It wasn't as drastic or impressive as her brother, who would later set a chair on fire in a fit of anger when he was six. In fact, when compared to most cases of underage magic, it was almost tame. If Dumbledore had been around to see, he may have found it worrisome and unusual how similar in application it was to the underage magic of Tom Riddle.

Natalie had simply been trying to get a book that was on the top of her shelf, feeling irritated when she couldn't reach, and just as she was about to give up it had leapt into her hand, almost knocking her off the chair she was standing on.

From then on she had continued to do small things, experimenting with her magic. She'd read about accidental magic in one of the books she had taken from her mothers study, and, as she did not receive a warning from the Ministry, she tried to refine her control over it.

Of course, it was largely unsuccessful, but Natalie practised in the application of magic whenever she could, from summoning books to opening doors. She kept this to herself, never demonstrating her fledgling abilities around anyone else, though she knew the house-elves had seen once or twice but they didn't say anything. They were a little wary of her, but compared to the rest of the people she knew, they acted positively friendly.

When she was more used to her magic, she thought about going to her parents and telling them about it. Wouldn't they be proud of her for being able to do something even the boy who lived couldn't?

But, as she watched her family have dinner, hiding behind the slightly open door, she knew that they wouldn't praise her as they did her twin.

Natalie was very smart, and it didn't take much to deduct that the other Potters weren't...fond of her. The way her mother could never look her in the eye, never helps her get dressed or picks her up when she falls and hugs her like she does with Daniel. The way her father ignores her completely most of the time, never reads her stories or teaches her to play Quidditch or involves her in pranks, never calls her 'Prongslet' or any other nickname as he does her brother. The way Daniel always glares at her whenever he sees her before giving her the cold-shoulder, never inviting her to play with him, teasing her and storming away when she would stay quiet. She knew she made them uncomfortable.

It's not just them. Her family was famous, but the reporters had long since given up asking her questions or taking her picture when she used to go to the interviews, and now only mentioned her as the 'boy who lived's twin'. Her fathers best friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, tended to avoid her, though Mr. Lupin would greet her uneasily if he saw her. Her mother's friends acted the same, and she tended to stay in her room to get away from their disdainful gazes.

Any children that she met ignored her also, though she had tried once to join in on a game of simple catch. As soon as she had entered the back garden, where some redheads, the Weasleys, were playing, they had hurried away from her as if she had a disease. She saw the frightened looks tossed her way, and with a sigh had headed back to her room.

Natalie knew her brother had something to do with the initial reaction, but it was because of her too. She was much more mature than anyone in her age range; more advanced in both her speech and reading abilities. She could hear them talking about her sometimes, up in her room with the window open. They say that her hair is too white, her skin is too pale, her eyes are too black, she's too weirs/odd/strange.

After a while, she found that she didn't care any more.

That was when the dreams begin.

oOo

Natalie blinked and looked around in curiosity. She knew that she was asleep, but she had never had a dream as vivid as this.

She was standing at the edge of a pond, a deep navy blue in colour, that seemed to be never ending in its deepness. Trees line the edge of the small clearing, skeletal and tall in a way she had never heard of or seen before. There was no sounds of wildlife as one might expect from a forest, but the night sky above was stained red in a parody of blood. Everything had a strange feeling of muteness to it, as if it had lost all vibrancy. It was...

"Dead." she muttered, eyes shifting over to a figure that had recently appeared in her line of sight.

Her eyes widened as she took in the near identical features to her own, set in the masculine face of a man in his late teens or early twenties. The main differences in their appearance was that the man had black hair instead of her white, and bright red eyes that were similar in colour to the sky as it was in this world. He wore a long, dark cloak which covered every aspect of his body except his head, with the hood pushed back, and his mouth was stretched in a wide, sinister grin.

Part of her wanted to ask who he was, but as soon as the question came to her mind she knew the answer. "You're Death, aren't you?"

The parody of a smile widened and amusement became visible in both his eyes and voice as he replied, "I suppose I am, Little Master."

**.**

The young child's head titled to the side, "Why am I here?"

Her questions were straightforward and blunt, tone emotionless except for the smallest inflection of curiosity. Death couldn't help but find himself fascinated by the strange human who now held the title of his master. She wasn't like any mortal he had spoken with or observed before, in many different ways, and his interest was only piqued.

He had never had a 'master' before, since no one had ever been truly claimed by all of the Hallows at one time, so he had no way to judge her suitability. He'd been watching her, of course, as she grew older, and seen how the other humans acted around her.

Death supposed it was to be expected; the way normal people would shy away from the girl. They often did that in his presence, though it had been much worse until he had learned to control his aura. It was their most basic instincts; to run away from those more powerful, to shun those who were different. Even when she was a baby the humans were uncomfortable to be around her, which spoke of her potential.

He had finally decided to contact her when she began to distance herself from humanity, thus bringing her closer and more in tune to...other beings, such as himself. He wasn't quite sure what he expected from the meetings, but it would hopefully prove to be amusing in the least. He had been getting rather bored recently.

He had decided on this form not long ago, changing from genderless to a male state of being, as they had been female the last time he took a gender. He couldn't say whether he had influenced the Little Master's appearance, or she him, but found the similarities quite humorous.

"No reason." Death shrugged, smirking when he saw her eyes narrow. "I just thought it was about time I met my young master." He finished with an exaggerated bow. He had always been one of the most immature of the higher entities, much more involved in the Core world than the others were, and more effected in that way. He remembered a time when he had been naught but an emotionless deity, a statue in his garden. That was before the more interesting creatures had come along, such as humans, who always proved to be quite entertaining.

Now, looking down at the strange Little Master, he knew that this would be _fun. _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: For those wondering, the names after the Chapter are different spectres of death (eg. Death, Azrael, Mara, ect)**

**Also, I don't think I've put a disclaimer, but I'm not going to do so for every chapter (even it is obvious) so – I don't own Harry Potter, Death Note or any other ideas I borrowed. I do own the plot, any ocs that turn up and certain characteristics. **

**Oh, as a reviewer pointed out – I _know _that Near isn't actually a girl. That's why the summary says Fem!Near, and that this is AU. **

_"Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive." - Josephine Hart _

Chapter 3 **Mara**

Lily sighed softly to herself, running a hand through her red hair. She'd been sitting there, in an armchair beside the window, for the better part of the afternoon, mulling over the choice she would soon have to make.

The twins had recently turned five. They had a large celebration, with those the Potters considered family and friends invited to a private dinner party in a nice muggle restaurant in London. They had chosen to have the dinner in a muggle establishment to avoid any reporters, and had been thankfully successful. The restaurant workers were rather confused by the oddly dressed people, Lily remembered with small smile, but at the many birthday wishes had assumed it was some sort of fancy dress party.

Afterwards they had all headed to a secluded field far away from any town or villages, numerous protection put up around it. For this part of the day, reporters and the general public were allowed to come, after being put through a security process first. Various games and attractions had been put up, from muggle bouncy castles to enchanted puppet shows, with a Quidditch pitch set up for those who were fond of the sport.

Daniel had received more gifts than she could count, the ones from people close to him given directly. He seemed to have had a lot of fun that day, running around with his friends and opening some of his presents with a delighted grin on his face.

Natalie, on the other hand, stayed close to the very edge of the woods which surrounded the south area of the field, far away from any people. She too had received a few presents, though noticeably less than her brother. Lily supposed it was to be expected, as Natalie wasn't as famous as her brother, nor as popular, and didn't have any friends. She just sat on the grass, reading another one of the books that the girl had so many of. Her own gift to her daughter had been a small silver bracelet that she had seen one day whilst shopping, and since she had no idea what else to get, she bought it.

From his parents Daniel had received the latest broomstick designed to be more safe for young children, and a set of stuffed toys which were enchanted to act almost lifelike, which was from the Marauders as well as Lily. From her father and Sirius, Natalie was given a selection of chocolates and sweets, and from Remus, her godfather (as Sirius was Daniel's godfather), she was given a slightly battered _Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures _and _Magical Theory; the Origins of Magic. _Natalie had actually smiled lightly at the latter gifts, something Lily noticed she hardly ever did, nodding her thanks to a surprised Remus.

Just as the sun was setting, when the family had gone back home with their gifts and a few close friends, Lily and James announced their intent to do a Magic Potential Test, or MPT. It was a tradition of pure-bloods to do this test on children on their fifth birthday, to see if, essentially, they were a squib.

However, other than that the test was seen as a sort of right of passage into the wizarding world, the ritual was celebrated amongst the people close to the parents. Though the twins were not pure-bloods, but could be counted as first generation pure-bloods, James was and he wished to carry on the tradition, as his parents had done for him.

The MPT was completely harmless, only requiring a drop of blood from the child being tested, fuelled by the magic of one of the parents or close family member. It was not considered Dark Magic, as most Blood Magic was, due to the fact that there were no harmful effects and pure-bloods had been doing it for close to centuries, many workers in the Ministry having been a part of an MPT themselves.

The parent would draw the rather simple symbol on a stone ground, using a combination of the five year old's blood and ink, whilst the child stood (or sat) in the centre. If the child was indeed magical, the symbol (which was shaped like a square within a circle, runes trailing along the edge) would light up, the colours usually ranging from green to red. If not, then it would instead remain black, or light up weakly.

For Daniel, who had gone first, the rune had turned a green-blue in colour, lighting up brightly before fading. This indicated that he had about the average mount of magical power for his age, maybe slightly above, but Lily knew that his magic would mature along with him, and by the time he was of Hogwarts age it would be a lot stronger.

Natalie was a different case altogether. As she sat calmly in the centre of the circle, twisting a piece of hair between two fingers, the symbol didn't light up. In fact, as Lily watched closely with dismayed eyes, it grew _darker _in colour! Her daughter had to be a squib, and, as she listened to James as he told the watching audience, her theory was confirmed.

_You're not very bright, are you, silly mortal? If the Little Master had _no_ magic, them there would be _no_ change! You should really stop expecting the _ordinary_ from the _extrodinary._ It seems you have made, and will continue to make, more mistakes than I had originally predicted..._

Not that there was anything wrong with being a squib, of course not! It's just...well, with Natalie already being jealous of her brother, how was she going to feel when Daniel was old enough to go to Hogwarts, leaving Natalie behind? Never mind if Lily had more children. Her daughter was already an outcast, but having no magic yet living with a magical family, Lily herself would hate to live like that!

And, as Dumbledore had said, Voldemort was not completely gone, and would likely be back one day to extract his revenge on those who defied him, the Potters being at the top of his list. Whilst the rest of her family would be able to at least defend themselves, Natalie was be as helpless as any other muggle.

Maybe...maybe it would be best if Natalie grew up with muggles. Then, at least she would have a chance to live a normal and safe life.

_Ah, but that's not all there is to it, is there? Creepy little Natalie, already strange and a disappointment, can't even do magic!_

She had spoken to James about it, and wasn't too surprised to hear him agree. She knew that he wasn't very...fond of Natalie, but as a parent he surely wanted what was best for her. And this would be good for Daniel as well; it would be unfair for him to have to live with a sister who very obviously envied him, and he would probably begin to feel guilty for it, even though it wasn't his fault!

Later, she Floo-called Dumbledore, and told him of her plan. Thankfully, he too agreed with her, giving his own opinion on the likeliness of Natalie's jealousy only growing over time, and how it would negatively effect the family as a whole. He compared it to Lily's sister; being able to know of the awe-inspiring magical community, yet being shunned and unable to use magic herself.

With this statement Lily came up with the perfect solution; why didn't she send Natalie to live with Petunia? She knew that, as a child, Petunia had always wanted a little girl, and though they had their own son the Dursleys would surely take in Natalie and raise her as their own. Then, her daughter would grow up in a normal home with a family who would take care of her, and not know the sorrow and jealousy of being unable to interact with the wizarding world.

But, she might retain memories of her time at the Potters, even if she was only five, and the magic she had seen. Petunia wouldn't want to be reminded of magic, and what if Natalie went to look for the magical sites she remembered, such as Diagon Alley?

Maybe, maybe if she...

oOo

Natalie watched her mother from the corner of her eye as they hurried down the street, the majority of her mind focussed on the area passing by.

It was horribly boring, in her opinion. The houses were all the same, boxy and dull in design, with only minor differences in the style of front garden. Even the makes of the cars (Lily had made sure that both her children were at least somewhat educated on the Muggle world) were similar. The neat street was quiet and distinctly unmagical.

Glancing to her left, she spotted a street sign, barely visible in the dim, late evening light, claiming the road to be Privet Drive. Confused as to why her mother had taken her to this place which was obviously a muggle suburbia, she decided to finally question her.

"Mother, why are we here?" Natalie asked, frowning when she saw her mother jump slightly, as if her mind had been far away.

Whilst it wasn't unusual for people to daydream, Lily had been absent-minded the past few days to the point where she was beginning to worry for her health. There were several mental illnesses associated with absent-mindedness, and as her mother was her primary caretaker (as James never really had anything to do with her) she depended on her quite a bit.

Adding to that, if she suddenly had a mental breakdown, how on earth would she get back to her home? She doubted anyone had noticed her leaving with her mother, though they may search for Lily after a few hours and stumble across them.

She knew her reasoning may sound quite selfish, which in truth she was. But, it was not like she really had anyone to care _about, _never mind to put their needs above her own. She was often confused as to why her grandparents had died to protect her and Daniel from Voldemort. It was not as if they really could've made any difference. Honestly, Natalie thought their deaths were quite unnecessary, and it was rather irresponsible for her parents to have left the potential defeaters of Voldemort alone with two defenceless muggles.

She had asked Death this once, in one of the many conversation they had almost nightly for the past months, but he had just given an eerie smirk in reply.

"Oh, sorry sweetie, I was just...lost in thought." Lily finally replied, a troubled expression crossing her face as she brushed a strand of red hair from her face and grabbed her daughters pale wrist with the other. "Hurry up, we're almost there."

Natalie narrowed her eyes. Her mother never addressed her with endearments, though Daniel was quite fond of them even if he complained, and it revealed far more of her state than the rest of her answer did. But, with a slight nod, she submitted to the order and sped up her pace to a light jog.

The two came to a stop under a street lamp not far from a cluster of houses. She followed her mothers line of vision to a plain house with an immaculate garden, a number four nailed to the middle of the dark wooden door. There was no lights on inside, and she supposed that the people who lived there were asleep, as it was quite late. By a few plant pots was a bright blue tricycle, evidently broken by the cracked seat, and an inflated ball, revealing that the house was likely home to a young child.

Lily turned to face her, hands placed on her shoulders as she crouched before her. She looked sad yet relieved, and Natalie couldn't quell the uneasy feeling which rose inside her.

**.**

"Natalie." Lily started, tone serious."I-_we've _decided that you're going to go live with your Aunt Tuney. We think it would be better for you to stay there, especially since you're a-I mean, what with..." she trailed off awkwardly, looking away from her daughters eyes, seeing the usually impassive orbs widen before narrowing abruptly.

"I understand." Natalie's voice was flat, causing Lily to flinch. But she steeled herself; she had to do this. It was what was best for her family.

"Okay." she whispered, "O-okay." Lily said in a stronger voice, even as she stumbled over the word. She retrieved her wand from the front pocket of her robe, clutching it in a white-knuckled grip as she wavered in her guilt.

She steeled herself, and spoke the incantation clearly,_"Obliviate."_

Lily had always been talented with Charms, something which came in particularly useful with the task set out before her. _Obliviate _could be a very dangerous spell in the wrong hands (_like your own, _a traitorous voice whispered), so she would have to be careful unless she wanted the child before her to turn out brain dead.

The spell itself caused a person to forget their most recent memories, and, with power and precision, the caster could suppress or alter certain memories which may have occurred years ago. They could not, however, completely erase memories, though if one was a skilled enough Legilimens he or she may be able to.

Lily herself had received basic training in Occlumency, though not Legilimency, as many members of the Order had. This made it much easier to delve into Natalie's mind and find the memories she needed. She had ran over the theory of what she was about to attempt at least a dozen times in preparation, and hoped that nothing would go wrong.

She stayed at the surface of Natalie's mind, curious but not wanting to go any deeper, as at such a young age it could cause large amounts of damage.

From her vantage point she could 'see' (since she technically had no eyes) a thick fog obscuring thoughts, feelings, memories and anything else in her daughter's mind, vague dark shapes being her only hint, and the distant sound of rushing water. Lily shivered as she heard a masculine laugh echo throughout the space, a flash of glaring red eyes and the creaking of skeletal bones filling her senses before she pushed past the strange vision.

Determined, weaving her magic she gathered and separated all memory regarding to Magic, closing her eyes in concentration. She did not see the black haired man who watched with contempt, nor the stream of grey water which rose from an invisible pool, flowing along the castors magic and into an open doorway. A strand of brilliant green threaded itself with the liquid, writhing and twisting grotesquely, giving the illusion of some demented life.

Lily's eyes snapped open as she finished, and the door slammed shut with a bang. Through the mist she could see the door. It seemed to be made of some kind of dark silver metal, black chains criss-crossing over it and locked with a an ancient looking padlock. In a scrawling script the word '_Secrets' _wrote themselves as if by her own hand, in a deep Gryffindor red.

She allowed a small, satisfied smile and retreated from Natalie's mind, not realizing that just a moment after she left a pale, hooded man reached up with a clawed hand and brought it down on the door in a sharp movement.

A rip opened up with a shrieking screech of tearing metal, leaving behind a thin line which stretched from the top of the door to the middle, and allowing the man a narrowed view of the room inside. A tiny trickle began to pour through the small gap, occasionally highlighted by darts of green, beginning to make its slow way back through the haze.

He grinned, shark-like teeth bared threateningly. After all, it wouldn't do for the Little Master to get _boring_.

**.**

Lily sighed as she became completely aware of her body again. During spells such as these, affecting a targets mind, often the castor would only have a faint impression of their body's condition, which put them in danger from outside attacks. She always felt uncomfortable and paranoid because of that.

The process had taken no more than thirty seconds, according to a quick _Tempus _which she cast when she was once again sure that no Muggles were in the street. She had put them both under a Disillusionment Charm before they left, so she wasn't too worried about being seen, but it was best to be cautious.

Turning back to Natalie she noted the dazed expression on her face and, with a wince, Stunned her into unconsciousness. She picked her up, biting her lip as she felt how light she was, too light, and walked up the steps to the Dursleys' door. Taking in a deep, shaking breath she raised her fist and knocked hard on the door.

There was silence for a moment, before she heard the stairs creek and a low grumbling from the other side. The door opened, and she saw her sister for the first time in Merlin knows how many years.

Petunia had aged quite well, like Lily had, but she could see the slight wrinkles caused by time and stress that she herself had yet to develop. She was still thin, with the same blonde hair and pale eyes, which had widened in disbelief upon seeing who had woken her in the middle of the night.

Lily couldn't help but find herself amused by the gobsmacked look on her face, but it quickly faded as she focussed on what she had to do.

"L-lily! W-what are you-I mean, why are you-"

"Petunia." Lily interrupted, voice hard and face matching it. "I can't explain properly, and I'm sorry. But, please, I need you to take Natalie." She indicated the sleeping girl by handing her over almost roughly to her sister, who automatically took her into her arms with the practise of a mother.

"What are you talking about? You can't just-" Petunia started, confused and beginning to feel the first stirrings of anger at the sudden appearance of the younger woman. She surely didn't expect her to just-just take in some random child!

Apparently, she did. "This is my daughter, but we - James and I – can't look after her any longer. I'm sorry I can't explain, it's to do with the war and-" Lily shook her head. "I can't say any more. Just, please, take her in."

Petunia wanted to object, was about to, but the next second Lily had turned on her heel and Disapparated, leaving her gaping at her front door, wondering if this all was just a surreal dream.

oOo

Natalie spent the first few months at the Dursleys in a semi-conscious state, life going by in a blur of noise and colours.

Vernon Dursley had been reluctant to take the child in, remembering his disastrous meeting with the Potters, but Petunia managed to convince him. Lily had left her daughter there, so surely she would come check up on her from time to time, and what would she do if she find out that the Dursleys had gotten rid of her? Something awful with those freaky powers of hers, that was for sure.

But, to the members of the family, it was unbearably obvious that there was something very wrong with the Potter child.

The first months had been odd enough, the barely-there funk she seemed to be in making Petunia wonder if she had some sort of mental deficiency. She ate and slept, but only when given food or placed in the small cot Vernon had set up under the stairs (because there was no way that the girl is going to seem like a part of their family, and besides, Dudley needed that room, and the cupboard was good enough). She never made a sound, and Petunia would've thought her dead if it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Then, when she had been with the Dursleys for four and a half months, Natalie _woke up._

It was so sudden, she had been simply sitting on the thin mattress in the cupboard, Petunia feeding her, staring ahead at nothing with listless eyes. Petunia had written a schedule of when to care for her, going with the same timings as when her little darling ate, drank or did anything that might require her. Otherwise, she was sure she would forget about the white-haired girl.

And then she had blinked, slow and drawn-out as if waking up from a long sleep. Petunia paused and watched in surprise as she hunched over, rubbing a pale fist over her closed eyes before straightening up and turning her attention to her aunt.

For the first time since she had met her, Petunia was able to see life in dark grey orbs. Some might have described them as dull or blank, but she thought of only one adjective that could correctly describe the unhidden depths.

_Damaged. _

It was like an unhealed wound, festering with infections as it stretched across her niece's mind. There was something _wrong, _so wrongnotright_bad, _and her breath hitched in her throat as she fought with her instincts to run as far away as she could. She didn't know how she knew it was there, but it was and what was she going to do they were all going to _die-_

Natalie blinked again, wiping away the glimpse of her true soulfeelingsthoughts? that Petunia had seen, features blank and unforgiving.

It was inhuman.

oOo

Natalie didn't like the Dursleys very much, even if they were supposedly family.

They were scared of her, she could see that, but also disgusted, as if she were something that they had found on the bottom of their shoes and couldn't get off. After she had 'woke up' (she still couldn't really remember what had happened during that time, and thought it best that she hadn't. It felt odd when she tried to think about it) she had quickly gotten used to her surroundings, not finding herself too bothered by the less than luxurious conditions offered to her.

The cupboard under the stairs wasn't too bad. She found the dark comforting and spent most of her time just sitting in the inky blackness, or outside in the corner of the back garden. The spiders that had already inhabited the small space had soon moved out, though she wasn't quite sure why, since she had done nothing to deter them as far as she could tell.

She knew that her mother had abandoned her here, could remember walking down Privet Drive and then – and then, it all went dark. Her life before the Dursleys hadn't been too different in terms of isolation, but she knew she was missing something, had forgotten something that was _important. _

It scared her that she couldn't remember, but it also made her angry, like it was someone's fault. She wanted to tear them apart, to rip them limb from limb with malice and violence that she didn't know she was capable of, to know their every secret and lay them bare before them, to taunt and torture them until they were begging for the sweet release of death, to completely and utterly _destroy them-_

Evidently, her memory loss was not natural.

oOo

For the most part, she could remember her life before the Dursleys. She had lived with her parents and her twin brother. James, Lily and Daniel Potter. They lived in a large house in the countryside, and her family, especially her brother, were famous for some reason. She wasn't very close to any of her family members, but they were at least better than the Dursleys.

There was something missing, an important aspect of her life with the Potters that didn't exist where she now lived. But, when she would try to recall whatever it was, she felt a pounding in her head and saw an image of emerald green eyes.

She thought they might be her mothers, since she had never seen any eyes of the same colour, but couldn't be sure – how were her mother's eyes connected to what had happened?

For the most part, Natalie and the Dursleys went about their lives in a familiar routine. Natalie would either spend her time in the cupboard (_not _her _cupboard; nothing in this house was hers, and she didn't want it to be)_ or the garden. The Dursleys tried to hide her presence from the neighbours, but they eventually found out.

Petunia came up with the believable story (_not quite the truth, not quite a lie_) that Lily had abandoned her on their doorstep because she and her drunk of a husband couldn't handle such a badly behaved child. They seemed to enjoy encouraging and spreading rumours of her supposed horribleness, but she found that she didn't really care.

Sitting in the front garden, for a change, as she was now, she watched a mother and her son walk past. He couldn't have been much older than she was, maybe six or seven, and was holding his mothers hand as he tried to run ahead, only for the smiling woman to tug him back gently. He pouted, before grinning as she handed him a lollipop of some sort.

Natalie focussed on her emotions – did she feel bitter? Sad, disappointed that even her own parents didn't want her? Did she even care about the idea of family? That she was alone, and probably always would be?

But there was nothing. She didn't pity herself, only...

It was odd. She felt disconnected from those around her, like...like they weren't the same. Like there was something fundamentally different from herself and humans. Humans needed social interaction, needed family and friends and to know someone cared about them. She didn't. Didn't need nor wanted it – in fact, she almost felt...disgusted, just thinking about it.

It was like she wasn't human.

A flash of pleased red orbs flashed across her vision, an amused chuckle sounding in her ears. It was the sound of a stopping heart, a child's scream, a hacking cough, a swishing scythe.

Yet, as a warm (_but cold, cold as a corpses skin) _but invisible arm encircled her shoulders, it seemed so reassuring, so familiar.

A small smile crept onto her face, eyes closing with a happy sigh.

Somehow, she knew, just _knew, _she had all she could ever want.

_You just need to ask..._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter is a bit odd, but I kind of like the way its turned out. Let me know what you think of it. **

**It was pretty hard to write, especially with how Death is much more involved with this one. For most stories people usually have a general outline of a characters personalities; their goals and how they would act in certain situations. But Death is totally random really, he acts in whichever way he wants, basically whatever comes to mind while I'm writing.**

**Ankou is the 'henchman of Death', which is why he's sorta suitable for this chapter.**

**Anyway, enjoy! **

"_Only the shallow truly know themselves," - Unkown _

Chapter 4 **Ankou**

oOo

**September 1985**

"_How old are you?"_

_They're talking again. Every night, when she falls asleep, she wakes up again here. _

_They sit on spindly chairs made of bone, a stained white in colour, which are strangely comfortable despite their appearance. They are rather artistic, in their own eerie way. Bones lock together in a high back, a curved seat and narrow legs which should have logically collapsed beneath their weight. No matter how long she stares them, she can never tell what sort of bones they are, just that they _are _bones._

_It should seem cliché, but it isn't. They fit in with the surroundings, a part of them._

_A table is set between them, this time made of the Elder trees which line the clearing behind them. It is small and simple; a flat surface with four straight legs. On top of it lies a game, each one different from the last. _

"_Don't you know it's rude to ask someone their age?" Death asks teasingly, voice taking a mocking tone. He 'tuts', shaking his head. "And here I thought you had manners."_

_She is unfazed, tilting her head slightly, "I believe that phrase only applies to older women who are insecure about their age and do not wish the questioner, usually a male suitor, to know it. You are neither or woman nor am I a male suitor."_

_Death deadpans, smirk dropping, though his eyes still hold their amused glint. "Was that supposed to be a joke, or are you just naturally this blunt."_

_A small smile crosses her face, "A little of both."_

_He grins again, something many would describe as menacing, yet she doesn't see it that way. Death is an odd being; constantly looking for something to interest him, having such a low tolerance for boredom. He told her once that a while ago, many centuries before her birth, he barely felt anything more than apathy, a still figure standing within his Garden. _

_Then, one day, he felt something shift. A new presence in the air; something had _changed.

_This was the day she was born. Of course, he didn't know this at the time, but it was enough to wake him up from his statue-like state. _

_Now he was constantly changing, abruptly swinging from one emotion to another. When he's talking with her, he is nearly always amused, though she has been witness to his anger. It is truly a fearsome thing, though it has yet to be directed at her. _

_In some way he reminds her of a child, barely in control of their actions and no concern for the consequences. She finds him entertaining, and she knows he thinks the same of her. She had yet to gain an explanation of why he has taken such an interest in her, but she is glad for it. He is the only other being that she can truthfully speak to, though she is not sure how concerned he is for her well-being. Entities such as he are not known as being caring._

"_Well," he finally answers, throwing his legs over an armrest as he rest his back against the other, eyes closed and hands clapping together. "It's rather hard to keep track of my exact age, what with time measurements not really existing until a few thousands years ago." he opens his eyes and looks at her. "You humans are so concerned with knowing the time, its rather ridiculous when you take into account of how old the earth is." this is accompanied with an eye roll, tone patronizing, as if speaking to a silly child. She knows that it is not directed at her, and so does not take offence._

"_Anyway." he suddenly swings around again, so that his feet are now on the floor, reaching out and absent-mindedly twirling a piece of her hair between his fingers. He has done this before, seeming to have a strange fascination with her snowy locks, and she has since grown used to it. "My age. Hmm," she leans forward in anticipation. She knows roughly how old the earth is, and wonders if he has been around for longer. Are there other places at which Death resides?_

"_I am...very very very very _very _old." he barks a laugh, flicking her nose and leaning back into his chair._

_She scrunches her nose, mildly irritated that he evaded her question in such a childish way. She is about to ask again, demand more, when he speaks._

"_Now, would you like to play," he looks down at the box set on the table, face splitting into a wide smile that would be better suited on a eight year old. "Oooh, Monopoly! I haven't played that in _ages! _And look," he shoves the box in her face, inches from her nose, "it's special edition. C'mon, play with me! You're gonna wake up soon."_

_She sighs, reluctantly giving in with a fond smile. Death seems to enjoy boardgames, preferring modern ones made for children over games such as chess, though they had played that once. It is stupid, a waste of time, and she can't help but enjoy it._

oOo

**September 1986**

**Surrey**

Shortly after she turned six, Natalie started primary school along with her disgruntled cousin.

Dudley had thrown a fit when he had learned that he would have to go to school, especially since he would have to get up so early every morning. He sometimes went to the day care when he was younger, though Petunia tended to look after him instead. Natalie never went there, the Dursleys preferring to ignore her existence as best they could. They didn't want to draw any unpleasant attention to their family, and the girl would definitely be the bringer of it.

Of course, they had to sign her up for schooling. Vernon wouldn't be able to stand it if the neighbours started gossiping about why the Potter girl didn't go to school, and he knew that some government official would come to their house enquiring as to why.

So, it was decided that the girl would go the local school along with Dudley. Neither parent was too happy about this, trying to minimise any interaction she had with normal people. Thankfully, she had never displayed any of the freakish tricks Petunia's _sister_ could at her age. It could've been worse; the girl was so quiet, somewhat obedient in the way that she never disturbed them – Vernon wasn't even sure if she _could_ talk.

If given the chance they would get rid of her in a heartbeat. But, those people – those _freaks –_ were probably watching, waiting for them to do just that. And, no matter how much he hated them, he knew that _they _were stronger than him and his family. They had ways of finding things out, and who knew how they would retaliate!

So he put up with the girl. Fed her, gave her a place to sleep, allowed her to hang around in the freaky silent way of hers. Vernon allowed her to read the few books they own, if just to keep her occupied and away from them. He doubted she could actually understand them anyway, was probably just looking at the pictures.

They had come to a sort of silent agreement; _you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours._ And Vernon was perfectly happy with that.

oOo

**February 1986**

_She is watching the shadow._

_It turns and twists, a delicate dance of stretching figures. It hypnotizes her, eyes following unwillingly until she too is lost in the dance, unable to pull away, not _wanting _to pull away. _

_She hopes it ends soon._

_She hopes it never stops, never _ever _stops. Hopes she can stay here forever, just watching the lovely dancer and herhis**its **flowing movements. _

Can I watch?

_Lilting laughter, bright and warm and dark and freezing. _Of course you can!

_She is delighted and scared and happy and sad and help me helpme letmeoutgoaway!_

_Two hands on her shoulders, pulling her protectively to a slim male chest. Hissing and screeching in a language she doesn't know, which pulls at her mind and her ears and she knows that if she was anyone else, she would have gone deaf._

_A final shriek. The shadow disappears in a burst of black flames._

_A soothing voice whispers in her ear. Familiar._

Death?

I'm here, it's okay. _His voice hardens, anger that is not directed at her barely tangible. _It's gone now.

What was it? _She murmurs, curiosity winning out against lingering fear._

There is no name for them in human language, though the best translation is...a Shadow Dancer. _He sounds slightly excited now, delighted that he has a new story to tell. He always does enjoy telling stories._

They used to be Dancers, on another plane separate from your own. The shadow you saw was part of a group, beautiful fae with wings of ice and pointed features, skin of pale blue and eyes of silver, who would dance for the entertainment of the High Court. _He pauses. _I'll have to tell you about them some time.

Anyway, _he continues, _one of the Dancers, the Third, was paid by a very wealthy...man to assassinate one of the Court members, who had wronged him in the past. As security is so tight, the Dancers had the most chance of being able to do so; a slip of poison, a _sjkervs _bite. And the Third agreed.

The assassination failed. _He says, going on in a cheerful tone, _She was spotted before she could even attempt anything, and her along with the rest of the Dancers were tortured before being...killed. Now, they wander the planes, seeking to entice people into watching their dance, waiting until the right moment to...

_He tickles her, causing her to giggle unwillingly. With a bright grin he jumped to his feet, pulling her along with him. _I think that's enough story telling for now. _He looks around curiously, taking in the nearby trees of skeletal wood, _What were you doing all the way out here? _He gestures to the bleak surroundings._

_She stares at the pool of grey water near her feet, gazing into its deceptively deep depths and...thinking._

Just watching.

oOo

Natalie peered up at the school, a few steps behind Petunia and Dudley as they hurried up the pavement. It wasn't a very large school, nor a very colourful one. The windows were quite small, walls painted white. The few splashes of colour were from paintings stuck up on the insides of the windows, obviously made by the children attending the school.

It was an average school, achieving average scores with average pupils. Perfect for people like the Dursleys, who strived for normality. Almost all of the children in the neighbourhood went to the primary school, many students who went there knowing each other from when they were toddlers.

She was honestly looking forward to going to school. One thing she knew for sure about herself was her love for learning; she had read every book in the Dursley household, from cooking to childish picture books, and couldn't wait to get her hands on more. The Dursleys didn't have a very large selection of books, but she couldn't exactly ask for them to buy some for her. She knew with absolute certainty that they would refuse.

The teachers there would probably be more attentive to her educational needs than the Dursleys were, able to point her in the right direction of what she wanted to know. She doubted that they would be as unprofessional as to be biased against her, like so many people were.

**.**

But, as most everything is, it was not what she expected. She enjoyed the lessons, enjoyed learning about everything the teachers could offer. She found the library on the second day, and spent the breaks they were given there, staying after school as long as she could. The librarian, a young woman who spent the majority of her time their reading a magazine, didn't complain about the amount of time she spent there.

She didn't even bother hoping to make friends. Dudley scared them all off, even if the rumours spread and warnings from parents didn't. She didn't care though, she didn't _want _to be friends with any of them. She had all she needed; herself, books and -

Natalie paused. And who? It was as if some part of herself knew that there was another to add to that list, but it just kept slipping beyond her reach. She knew it was a who, not a what – a person.

No, that's not right. Not a person, but almost...

She doesn't know.

oOo

_It is dark._

_It makes no sense. She has no eyes to see, no hands with which to feel, no brain with which to think. But she knows this is true, knows it with such certainty that she cannot even think to doubt herself. _

_It is an eternity, an abyss _(and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you) _that just goes on and on and on and on and-_

_-never never stops, never ends._

_It is overwhelming, consuming, tearing her apart into little pieces until there is nothing left, until she is _nothing_, nothing at all but a speck of dust, a speck of dust in an empty world-_

_-and it puts her back together, gentle caresses gathering her together, building her up until she is _more, _so much more than she's ever been. Higher and taller and stronger and- _

_It is dark._

_Then there is a flash. Green, a bright, horrific green which makes her feel sick yet also excites her. It is everything, and it is nothing. This she also knows. A word drifts, just within her reach, of what to label it..._

_Memory..._

_And then she is falling. _

_Falling through nothing, falling through everything. Across time and space, across one side of the room to the other, across dark to light. Spinning drifting flying falling staying moving-_

_And then it stops, and she is _they.

_They are watching a girl. They don't like her; she and her friends often make fun of them, spreading rumours throughout the small public school. That they are an orphan (true), that they have ratty and second-hand clothes (true), that no one wants them (…). _

_They don't like her._

_She is swinging, laughing gleefully as she falls and rises, higher and higher. They know that if she fell from that height it would hurt, maybe break something. She would cry, rip her pretty little dress, mess up her pretty little face._

_And suddenly, with a burning intensity that they have touched on before, but never to this level, flows through their mind. They _want _her to fall, to get injured, to feel even a _measure _of the pain that they do. She deserved it! Silly little girl with her silly little swing. Just _fall!

_The girl falls._

_She is crying, screaming piteously, _(what's wrong, little girl? Did the fall hurt?) _but they are not paying attention. What happened? It was so abrupt; one moment she was reaching the full arc of her swing, the next she was dropping, straight to the ground like a dead weight. What did they _do?

_No, it's no possible, they couldn't have. They were no where near her, she probably just fell._

_But the rushing in their veins, the slight strain on their mind and their quiet gasps for breath speak differently. They close their eyes, focus on the raw feeling of...of what? They don't know, but it is amazing, far better than anything they've felt before. They feel..._

_They feel powerful._

Natalie woke up in her cupboard, grey eyes wide open. She placed a hand to her head, wincing at the slight ache, and tried to grasp as the last vestiges of her dream, but it was gone. It had happened once of twice before, flashes of strange visions and dreams, usually so disorientating that she couldn't remember anything after.

She sighed, turning over and was soon asleep again, the dream forgotten.

_But in her subconscious it lingers._

oOo

The one thing that bothered her most about school were the teachers. She could tell that she unnerved them as much as she did anyone else, but what they seemed to particularly hate – is that the right word? – was her intelligence.

Of course, they didn't say that. But whenever she knew the right answer, got full marks on a test, asked a question that was too insightful, asked to go ahead in the work the other students were doing, they say that she is _cheating. _

She hated that. Natalie knew she was smart, always had been, and she didn't _need _to cheat. So, rather than going to the lessons and listening to the condescending remarks of teachers and their _flawed _learning methods, she read.

Every book, any book, she read. From ancient history to chemistry, from psychology to geography, she read about and learned as much as she could from each. In one books she discovered that she had Eidetic memory, more commonly known as a photographic memory. She didn't bother telling anyone about it; who would she tell?

_And it was strange, because sometimes, sometimes, she could swear that she already read that book, already learnt that fact, already knew that language. But they were always the older books, never newly discovered facts. _

After a few weeks she started going back to class, when the teachers finally complained to the Dursleys. She found it ridiculously amusing to correct the teachers, until eventually they ignored her altogether. But she was content to read at the back of the room, responding politely with no emotion when on the rare occasion she was called upon.

She found that, both through experience and books, that being polite was the best way to respond. For one, it gave them no way to fault her, as well as annoying them greatly at times. It reminded her of the phrase 'Kill them with kindness', though she wasn't exactly kind.

It was fun, in it's own way. A routine that she could live by, learning as much as she could every day.

Then, something interrupted the routine.

_Death was getting bored..._

oOo

**December 1986**

**Surrey **

It started out as a normal day. Natalie woke up before her relatives, and was gone by the time Petunia was making breakfast. She had to leave earlier than them so that she could get to school on time, since Petunia refused to drive her to and from school after the first day. She didn't mind; the school wasn't very far from the Dursleys, and it only took half an hour to get there. It just meant that she had to get up a little earlier.

Natalie walked down the pavement at a leisurely pace, keeping her head down to watch the snowy ground. It was December, a few weeks before school ended, and in a rare burst of weather snow had started falling a few days ago. The children of Surrey seemed to enjoy making and throwing snowballs at each other, though she wasn't sure what was so fun about a ball of ice striking your body at high (or as high as a child could manage) speeds.

The worst part was the ice. She had to be careful where she placed her feet, too big trainers making it even harder to keep her balance. For one of the first times in her life she was thankful for the over-large clothes the Dursleys reluctantly supplied her with. Their varying sizes allowed her to wear several layers, keeping her at least somewhat warm in the freezing temperatures.

She pulled the collar of Dudley's old coat up to shield her face, too-long sleeves covering her hands. Her breath came out in puffs of visible air, and she sniffed from a cold she had gained, grimacing slightly. She couldn't say that she was a fan of winter, though she preferred it to summer at least. The heat never really agreed with her, and her pale skin had a tendency to burn easily.

The wind increased in intensity, stinging her eyes as it lashed across any uncovered flesh. She shivered and eyed the street in front of her, searching for some shelter, at least temporarily. Catching sight of an alleyway, she sped up and moved towards it, taking note of the total lack of people. Occasionally a car would drive by, causing her to avoid the side of the pavement lest she be splashed with melted snow.

Natalie entered the alleyway, cautiously making her way down it and keeping an eye out for any dangers. It was one she had walked down before, and provided a short cut to the next road, closer to the school. She didn't usually take it because it was so narrow and dark, a perfect place for someone to mug her or otherwise harm her.

She doubted there were many people around at this time, but she strained her ears for any sound all the same.

She relaxed a little when she heard nothing, continuing on her way, glad that the buildings on either side blocked out the worst of the wind. Suddenly, her feet slipped on some unseen ice, hidden beneath the fresh layer of snow, and she landed on her behind with a pained grunt.

With a sigh she began to stand up again, lamenting the damp that was starting to seep into her clothes. Her fingers were stinging from exposure to the cold ground, and she was a little unsteady rising to her feet, not paying attention to her surroundings.

She froze when she realized the presence of someone standing behind her, but by then it was too late. An arm gripped her into a loose headlock, obviously that of a man's, easily overpowering her as she tried to struggle. Her nose was assaulted with the stench of alcohol, and a hoarse voice spoke into her ear.

"Now now, this won't hurt a bit." It was completely emotionless, said as if by a robot or an actor, and she caught site of a pocketknife in the unknown man's hand, appearing in her vision as it descended towards her neck.

Her breathing sped up, eyes widening as the sharp edge glinted in the morning light. She can't think, her heart beat pounding in her ears, drowning out the sounds of people slowly waking up to the snowy morning, people who could _help her._

_But it is not in her nature to cry for help, to beg and plead. She is panicking and yet she is calm, detached._

The man's face was reflected on the surface; a gaunt face covered in a scraggly beard, brown eyes unfocussed and, for just a moment, she swore they flickered red.

Then, in one movement, too fast for her to even think about screaming, fighting, her mind still stuttering at a halt, the knife swiped across her throat.

And the world turned _black._

oOo


End file.
